“You will do no such thing,” Julian said.

“It is my choice,” I said, my heart pounding against my ribs. “I am a housekeeper. I am not part of your world, and I will not let my daughter become a target for your political enemies.”

Julian took a step toward me, his boots heavy on the floor.

“You think you have a choice, Claire?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.

“Everyone has a choice,” I whispered.

“Not anymore,” Julian said. “The moment Whitmore saw you in this house, you became a piece on his board.”

He picked up the brass key from the desk.

He took my hand, his fingers warm and surprisingly gentle, and pressed the cold metal into my palm.

“If you walk out those gates tonight, you are giving him exactly what he wants,” Julian said. “He will use you to get to me, and then he will discard you.”

I stared down at the key.

It felt heavy, like a lead weight in my hand.

“Why do you care?” I asked, looking up into his dark eyes. “I am just the help.”